


Halcyon

by Raicho



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Slash, Short One Shot, Wingfic, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 08:30:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7677325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raicho/pseuds/Raicho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl has wings. Rick didn't know.</p><p>"Gold wings extend behind a marred back littered with scars that tell the silent stories of decades from past abuse..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Halcyon

**Author's Note:**

> This is just quick one shot I had the time to write while sitting on an overnight in Houston.  
> I pictured Rick stumbling across Daryl while they he was hunting and catching Daryl in a moment of vulnerability.
> 
> Unbeta'd.

            Gold wings extend behind a marred back littered with scars that tell the silent stories of decades from past abuse; the wings arching and stretching into the air as if blooming from a confined cocoon. Specks of dust float through the air, effortlessly dancing under the spotlights of sun beams that break through the thick cover of the forest trees, only helping to emphasize the sheer beauty of the sight before him.

            Serenity and awe flood Rick’s senses—he’d not been expecting to find such magnificence while out on a routine hunt. Before he knows what he’s doing, he’s reaching out his rugged palm to brush against the soft tip of a feather; the quill radiates warmth like a sun-kissed stone. Not a word is spoken in fear of corrupting the tranquil moment—too rare to find most days. He finds himself staring not just at the feathered appendages within his grasp, but also at deep blue eyes too shy to meet his gaze.

            A shiver reaches his calloused fingertips; aurelian plumage shifting beneath his touch and quivering at the bone. Rick swears he’s witnessing a dream come to life.

            A shift in the wind disturbs the ethereal calm, causing the wings to flinch back into the shadows of the canopy, coiling away from his touch. Rick watches as their great arches fold tightly against their owner’s blemished back, bending closely as possible until they begin to seamlessly blend into pale flesh. Two angry, jagged lines—both perfectly surrounded by a canvas of marked pain—are left as the only evidence that anything ever existed in that now empty space.

            Rick watches as a blush crawls up his friend’s throat while usually nimble fingers scramble to find a discarded vest that had been left sprawled across the dirt of the forest floor. His friend’s back is covered as quickly as manageable; trying to hide any evidence of the moment like someone trying to throw water on a blazing fire. A crossbow is slung over one broad shoulder, and with a low huff the moment is over.

            Squinted eyes are aimed in Rick’s direction; shades of blue looking at him and demanding his secrecy. He simply nods his consent, knowing full well it was not his secret to tell.

            Together they walk back to camp side by side, shoulders almost bumping as they leave the forest with sealed lips and flushed cheeks. As they step into the clearing, Rick reaches his hand out once more to grip at his friend’s wrist to convey his gratitude for being given the opportunity to witness a moment of halcyon during a period where the world was both ugly and cruel.

            With a raspy voice, he whispers, “Thank you.”


End file.
